


And I think we're gonna find a way to lose this strange feelin'

by velvetshi



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Brian is an angel, Cuddling, Deaky is confused and tipsy, Freddie is in need for love (like always), Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots being cute, M/M, OT4, Platonic Romance, Roger is anger, Roger wants to fight but just because he loves them, but also not platonic at all, i made that quite obvious, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetshi/pseuds/velvetshi
Summary: Brian had trouble figuring out if the prompt and blinding smile Roger shot him really happened. Roger was already making his way back into the bar.“Off we go again! And one of the ladies really fancied you back there, you-““You should better get some fresh air.“Roger stopped his movements and rose his eyebrows way too flummoxed.“I don‘t...““I‘m coming with you.““Okay.“No one had thought about rooftops at midnight being able to fix profound issues - until it happened.





	And I think we're gonna find a way to lose this strange feelin'

**Author's Note:**

> I really don´t know what happened here. This is legit the first fic I´v ever finished, and trust me when I tell you: that´s a milestone for me. After rereading it about 139483jdkndk33 times, I´m finally ready to post and still I am not ready to post.  
> This is dedicated to Queen´s breathtaking bond and epic friendship, and also to Maylor and Deacury, cause they cute. Set in late 70´s; there´s angst, there´s swearing (loads of it), there´s a happy ending; now buckle up and enjoy the ride. ((I´m not a native speaker, please have mercy))
> 
> I mostly listened to Simon and Garfunkel´s "Old Friends/Bookends" while writing this.

11 pm, loud chattering and voices, occasional screams, so drunk it was hard to connect them to the real world, already drifting into other dimensions. The lighting situation was also rather confusing and unusual, because no one seemed to care that much about two recently shattered bulbs, and over some people light poured down to illuminate every little shape, whereas some were consumed by darkness, which made it hard to keep an eye on everything that was happening around. 

Brian currently had to keep up with mazy words that came out of some guy´s mouth without either purpose or meaning, and of course Brian listened. That was his specialty, quite frankly turning into a curse. 

“But they didn‘t find actu‘l alien breed, did they? I heard that-“

“No, they didn‘t. ”  
“I heard about the formula they created to calculate our indiff- out distan- the thing, you know, when you‘re away, but very far... ”  
“Yeah. ” Brian didn‘t have much energy to answer. It was pointless to hope for possible virtues of such conversations.

The only thing that made these gatherings after another successful concert bearable was the fact that he was used to them by now, knowing exactly what to drink and what not to drink if he wanted to be jolly enough to understand people‘s reckless behaviors, but sober enough to maintain a diligent amount of control if it came down to it. 

His rationality was useful ever so often, because apparently only 1 percent of people setting out to have a good time actually cared about the outcome of specific decisions, with him embodying 0,70% of this percentage, and John the additional 0,30%, but only on Mondays. Right now Brian spotted him downing two shot glasses after one another, shouting something along the lines of `son of a bitch‘ and receiving a big smooch from a suspiciously big-chested women. All of that in a matter of seconds. Impressive. 

Brian realized he was frowning so hard it gave him a headache and the words of his talkative opposite were turning into a big, intangible noise in the back of his head. Suddenly he wondered about Roger, because Brian had last seen him over half an hour ago, between three lightly dressed girls who giggled when he ordered another round of glasses, and gave each other knowing looks when he gazed at them all bright and doe-eyed, like they proposed wonderful mysteries to him that needed be solved at any cost. 

The cigarette between Roger‘s lips hadn‘t even been lit for about 5 minutes, and as soon as he had turned to take the drinks, it had fallen onto the ground, wasted and forgotten. 

Brian had needed to look away; everything being an unpleasant reminder of how their existences were mostly defined by strangers and toxic substances these days. 

And now there were neither the girls nor Roger around, and someone shouted: “bloody mess on the bathroom floor!“, and Brian was all used to this, knew how emotions and the lack of it and alcohol and different kinds of people who all had different opinions on everything could pile up and form the weight of the world - usually unnoticed, but suddenly very manifesting.

He also had to think about Freddie, but Brian was used to him disappearing ever so often and miraculously turning up again; hair ruffled, shirt on backwards and a strange thoughtfulness in his expression, but clear speech and distinct knowledge of his surroundings. 

So Brian excused himself and didn‘t even get a reaction, because in bars you‘re always interesting, but never enough to matter beyond two subjects to someone. 

He was actually surprised by the alcohol infused pounding in his head that made everything a little harder as soon as he took a few steps in the direction of the toilets. He had to check on the drummer nevertheless, because presumptions regarding him rarely let Brian down. 

A much too harsh light greeted him after opening the door to the men‘s bathroom, as well as a smell that threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but empty stalls and the flashiness of Roger‘s red shoes made it easy to find him, at least. He was facing the toilet, kneeling in front of it. His disappointment and unhappiness about all of this was apparent even from the back. In front of the sinks a puddle of spilled alcohol of some sort made the floor indeed look like a mess.  
“Didn‘t have this in a long time,“ Brian carefully said to make his presence known, and of course Roger winced.  
“Shit. You fucking bum, I-“  
Roger managed to turn around, ungracefully landing on his ass, folding his legs in a way that actually looked painful as he leaned his head against the tiles covering the inside of the bathroom stall.  
“Yeah, I think you‘re drunk,“ Brian concluded and tried to steal a glance at the toilet, but no evidence of a pathetic and lonely puking session could be seen.  
“M‘not... I just felt really sick all of a sudden.“

He closed his eyes, noticeably wanting to blend out the unglamorous environment.  
“Sick?“  
“Sick of all of it.“

Roger opened his eyes again, long, dark lashes giving all of this an exquisitely dramatic touch, and smiled up at Brian, shrugging his shoulders and making it hard to answer, because Brian knew exactly what he meant, what kind of feeling must have taken over his body.  
“And also I drank a shit ton of Tequila, knowing damn well I should drink everything but Tequila.“ 

Roger made a low sound of pure suffering, and Brian was already planning on how he should arrange his hands to effectively pull back Roger‘s hair and necklace at the same time.  
“It gets into my limbs, but not into my head and brain and it‘s all really weird and I think I messed up the ending number today... Also the girls out there are probably after John right now, and I fullends support this bastard. I‘m kind of glad and kind of unhappy that you, out of all people, found me in this state.”

He chuckled, a sad finality to it, signaling all kinds of regret and self-loathing.  
“I think it does get into your head,“ Brian mused.  
“Huh?“  
“The Tequila.“  
“Ohh. The Tequila,“ Roger repeated delightfully. He was staring up at Brian without expecting anything at all.  
“I guess so,“ he eventually agreed and tried to organize his legs. 

Brian took a step forward to lend an arm to Roger.

There was no point in denying the fact that Brian would also gratefully pull Roger onto his feet with his own force alone, but the younger wouldn‘t be too happy about that. 

Somehow Roger ended up standing again, brushing over his velvet pants and singing the part in his car song that had a lot of sexual undertones to it. 

Then he pointed at the ceiling, stared at Brian expectantly and said: “Man... Great acoustic in here.“

Brian had to laugh.  
“You‘re an idiot.“  
“I know. Can we go back now? A shit ton of Scotch is waiting for me to drown the ache that the Tequila left. Also the girls, oh gosh, what are they probably doing to John... Poor virgin.“  
“Either you‘re joking, or you don‘t know him very well.“

Brian was forming a human wall that led the swaying Roger right to the sinks instead of the door, because dirty things were indeed a huge part of their lives, but not in the form of sticky germs picked up from a nasty bathroom floor; he would make sure of that.  
“Wash your hands, please,“ he stated his concern, and Roger was more than willing to do so, subconsciously following Brian‘s order, his mind already circling around other things.

He was looking at himself in the mirror.  
“I want you to help me“ - hiccup -“get some bangs.“

Then he halfheartedly shook off the water, turned around and squinted at Brian.  
“Also... do you think the tattoo studio is still open? The one we saw on our way here?“

Luckily, Roger made it easy for Brian to be honest about anything and everything.  
“Yes, but I don‘t think that‘s a good idea. You‘re a very regretful person.“

Roger thoughtfully bit around on his bottom lip, then nodded.  
“You‘re right, I guess. You always are.“

Brian had trouble figuring out if the prompt and blinding smile Roger shot him really happened. Roger was already making his way back into the bar.  
“Off we go again! And one of the ladies really fancied you back there, you-“  
“You should better get some fresh air.“

Roger stopped his movements and rose his eyebrows way too flummoxed.  
“I don‘t...“  
“I‘m coming with you.“  
“Okay.“

Sometimes it was a little scary how easily influenceable Roger was when it came to Brian´s instructions. It would be a lie to say it didn‘t plant some weird ideas into Brian‘s brain from time to time.  
At moments that even had Brian tumbling and humming with adrenaline and drinks inside his blood vessels and Roger looking as cruelly splendid as always. But at moments like these, when everything surrounding them, except their company to one another, was shitty and challenging, Brian was more than happy to be using the soft compliance of Roger Taylor as an exit for each of them. 

So here they were, pushing all sorts of bodies out of the way, heading for the staircase that led up to the dimly lit street. 

He got better at this whole living in the moment thing day by day, and worse at figuring out what he really wanted and longed for. Their time on the road brought his best and his worst qualities to life.

Roger must have sensed that something was on Brian‘s mind, because he frowned and observed him.

They reached the end of the hallway, and next to the door a stuffed wardrobe was situated - coats and jackets waiting for their stumbling owners to protect them from the chilly February breeze. 

Without a second thought Brian grabbed a thick woolen scarf and draped it provisionally around Roger‘s shoulders, who didn‘t stop his walking, only smiled towards the ground absentmindedly.  
“Lady, lady, ladeyy,“ he sang quietly and blurry. Brian caught himself beaming and didn‘t intend to cut it off for one second. 

They made it outside, night sky still welcoming them with an unexpected rush of foreignness despite them being used to it more than they were used to daytime.  
“But that was probably some poorly dressed lady‘s.“  
“No one‘s going to leave that party in the next few hours, trust me. And besides, who wouldn‘t be happy to lend Roger Taylor some fabric?“  
“Hm. That‘s a point,“ Roger mumbled, walking into a direction that let Brian‘s heartbeat speed up.  
One reason being up above them, where thousands of star constellations were waiting to be fathomed, and the other one right in front of him, leading the way with the same kind of purposeful naivety that had Brian captivated every time. 

They arrived on the rooftop of the building, abruptly surrounded by a soothing tranquility and loneliness.  
“We just left,“ Roger shrugged, pulling the scarf tighter around his body.  
“Well... we‘ll return in a few minutes. I just wanted you to get a clear mind again.“  
“No. I don‘t think we‘ll be returning, Brian, because perhaps I promised Susan to compete against her in a drinking contest and I‘ve made maybe like... what? Probably A million mistakes, but this would outdo every bad choice ever and haunt me for the rest of my life.“

He watched the sky, seeking calmness among the stars and getting it, because the next time he spoke, his voice was quieter and more relaxed.  
“And you don‘t want a changed and scarred Roger, nu- uh.“

Some minutes passed and Brian had to think about how he doubtlessly had dealt with a changed Roger more than once over the past five years. 

He´d handled it quite well. 

Roger‘s next words surprised him, because he flung them towards the milky way with despairing sadness.  
“You know what really upset me today? Freddie didn‘t want to share a room with me. `We‘re too old to be sharing rooms, dear.‘ Such bullshit! How do years determine your demand for stuff like that?“

The thing that had Brian concerned was the undertone of unconditional capitulation in Roger‘s voice. Like the only possibility to try and bring back some lost pieces of the past was stating his discomfort on a midnight tinted rooftop, the distant buzzing of well-known sounds vibrating beneath their feet, the only ears listening belonging to Brian. 

Not a trace of alcohol was detectable in Roger´s speech now, which made it even worse.  
“And John didn‘t lend me his green shirt, because apparently I got my own well equipped closet these days. Oh my god. That‘s not the fucking point, that‘s like saying you can‘t try some mustard from time to time if you got enough ketchup on your own.“

It seemed like Roger wanted to sound angry, but had to stick with tired, because all their friendship did was drain him.  
“Suddenly this bitterness is surrounding us all the damn time and I can‘t find a single good reason for it, no matter how hard I try.“

He looked at the ground bashfully, as if he came back from a journey he had been told to better not start at all.  
“Let‘s walk over there,“ Brian said softly. Not one single word hadn‘t hurt him, hadn‘t affected him in one way or another.

The rusty railing at the edge of the roof became a physical brace for them, with Brian leaning his lower back against it and crossing his arms, while Roger sat on the bar between the highest and lowest poles of the construction that normally kept disorientated party folk from unintentional, accelerated departures.  
“I hope I freeze to death. Then they‘d have to drag my body away, my miserable face visible forever,” Roger sulked.

Brian did know this side of his friend, and he had a hard time admitting that he liked it a lot. 

Roger just knew how to contribute the right amount of quirky, entertaining, meaningful comments to every given situation. 

It made it ridiculously easy to understand how Roger felt deep down inside.  
“I feel like time... Man... Time is such a stupid obstacle. Always ruining the best moments as soon as they occur.“

He sniffed to take away some of the heaviness and darkness from the helpless pause that followed his words. Brian had no problem with looking at the raw and emotional person in front of him, but he knew Roger had, so he was staring at his shoes.  
“Well. You just basically voiced the concerns and issues that keep me up for a while now,“ Brian eventually confessed, rose his eyebrows and made sure to put on a reassuring smile while turning his head to meet Roger‘s anticipating and alleviated gaze.  
“Turns out you‘re a lot braver at these kind of things than- all of us, really.“

That seemed to soothe Roger a little. He looked away into the distance again. This time to see and to take in, not to escape.  
“I wish they were like you. Or they were you. Three Brians and Roger. I‘d have the time of my life.“

Brian had to laugh and it turned out way louder and hysterical than he‘d intended, but Roger looked content.  
“That was the worst thing you‘ve ever said. Ever.“  
“I know. Also... It‘s not true. I‘m happy John is John and Fred is Fred.“  
“Yeah. I‘m happy about that too.“

The atmosphere changed again, shifting so quickly it made Brian kind of dizzy. 

To talk about someone they saw each and every day like they were suddenly very distant and alien to them felt like time traveling in a way.  
“We should talk to them. I should. You should. I miss you and we´re all sleeping on the same floor, but that´s the closest we get.“

The moment that had them staring at each other like testing waters, like seeing how much was okay to let loose, how much vulnerability felt justified, was carrying on for a long while. 

The interrupting and intruding sounds of footsteps let them snap out of their deeply satisfying stillness. How stupid they had been to believe this rooftop would belong to them and them only.

But then the figure came closer and turned from a threatening source of annoying human sounds to limbs and curls they knew too well. 

John was obviously drunk, being unusually carefree and unstable on his legs. For a few seconds Brian didn‘t know if their bandmate had recognized Roger and him, or if he was just willing to chase down any random people to socialize and spill his worries to. 

Then he suddenly whistled, or rather attempted to, spread his arms and smiled at them big and almost thankful.  
“There you are!“

Brian glimpsed at Roger, who looked equally pained and excited, like this sudden appearance just caused a lot of new opportunities to pop up.

Brian had to laugh breathy and low, because fate had its ways.

John stood in front of them, and he was neither cross eyed nor stupendously drunk, but still he grinned like never.  
“Don‘t tell me you were looking for us,“ Roger grumbled.  
“Why-? I was… Why…“

Brian should feel guilty, because John‘s struggle of keeping up with Roger‘s sass made him feel extremely pleased. 

Then he remembered their conversation from a few minutes ago, and how there had been true hurt and disappointment in Roger‘s words regarding no other than the person who was currently standing in front of them.  
“I was looking for you the whole evening, Mister Deacon. I had to down 3 extra shot glasses of liquor to avoid wasting anything and now I feel like I have to puke but I also know throwing up would cause my throat to burn, because I don‘t like the sharp stuff, you do-“

Roger interrupted himself with a severe closing of his mouth.

John looked downright startled and shocked. Brian felt sorry for Roger, because he had a point but also forgot how to convey it properly in the heat of the moment and he felt sorry for John, because the bassist had not one single bad bone in his body, but very much gave them the cold shoulder pretty often.  
“I‘m sorry, I- hm. You‘re very wrong if you think I avoided you. It‘s just that... you had fun with these girls and I didn‘t want to scare them away with my face.“  
He smiled wryly.

This time Brian had to chime in.  
“You can‘t be serious about that. You look lovely.“

Finally John shot him a glance, and it was hesitant as well as it was flattered.  
“Thanks.“ 

Roger made an accentuated face of betrayal.  
“Whatever. Your lovely face doesn‘t justify the fact that you stopped acting like a brother and started acting like a dad, for this whole year already. A fucking strict dad.“

John completely lost his little distracted smirk caused by Brian´s compliment like someone punched it right out of his face. Roger‘s words could get a little physical from time to time. 

Brian sighed. He wanted to say something along the lines of “there we go“, but the tiny remains of buzz inside his system did not spare enough snippy braveness to interrupt with a misplaced comment.  
“You do notice that- that you fucking act like a child all the time, every day and night. Freddie too. And Brian is a freaking malleable softie who lets himself float into whatever direction you two pull him.“

At this statement he looked at Brian rather apologetically, who frowned and tried to think of a situation where that had been the case. It didn‘t take him long to find a memory that left no chance to contradict.  
“Someone has to set some boundaries from time to time!“

Roger flinched. By the looks of it he didn‘t expect such backfire. The seconds passed and no one seemed to be able to add anything, still having to process everything that had been said. 

Then Roger lowered his gaze and let his shoulders sink. Something similar happened to John, who let his raised arms drop against his sides and relaxed his whole face. Brian followed this strange process of well-meant disarmament by letting his hands disappear into the pockets of his pants. 

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, because as much as he wanted to say something, their weird state of sulking in quietness inhibited any further verbiage. Now they only needed solutions. And not even Brian was that good at these kinds of things. Besides, was there even a point in discussing their problems without the attendance of Freddie, who played a not so unimportant role in their disputes?  
“You‘re both pretty drunk, let‘s just-“  
“M‘not.“ 

Astonishingly two mouths spoke with the same intention.  
“Yes, you sure are, Deaky. And Roger, I don‘t know about you, but you look very groggy and it would be a shame to catch a cold on tour, so please-“  
“Oh, enough with these dissembling attempts at dispute resolutions,“ Roger said and neglected Brian to target John again.  
“You were Looking at me so judgingly and evil throughout the whole performance and I thought it was because I messed up the recording on Friday and caused you to lack a big amount of sleep. Please just borrow me your shirts again, they smell very nice and homely and Deaky, bloody hell, we didn‘t talk about stuff not music related for nearly all of this voyage.“

Realization painted John‘s face in a very different light. 

His eyes got big and he fixated Roger with an expression that showed his shattered heart all too well.  
“Oh. Fuck, Roger. Scoot over.“

John let his hands flop around a little and started to tumble towards Roger, who looked overstrained at first, but then shuffled to the right a little, so the railing spared room for one more person to lean against.  
John moved so he was close enough to Roger to show understanding camaraderie, but still maintained a reasonable distance.  
“You do understand that I only want to make sure you don‘t end up choking on your own puke, because someone offered you strange looking candy that apparently tastes like strawberry bubble gum.“ 

Roger was looking very colorless and miserable, with John being a complete opposite, cheeks and forehead glowing pinkish and sweaty from the heat inside, still radiating the warmth of the bar.  
“Jesus, you look ill,“ John stated and tried to carefully put the back of his hand against Roger‘s face, but was shaken off immediately.  
“I just feel like... a dick,” Roger announced and stared at Brian, as if he was searching for some kind of approval. In this case Brian had to pass.  
“And I feel like you´re a dick too.” Roger turned to John and maintained an expression that bordered on thoughtful neutrality.  
“But I can‘t quite compare your dickness to mine, because I‘ve been horrible, haven‘t I?“

He sighed.  
“God, I hate this evening.“  
“Please stop. Now you‘re turning this into a terrible self-loathing session. I‘d rather have you continuing to insult me,“ John said.

Despite all the warning glares Roger shot him throughout, John had managed to huddle close enough to put his left arm around the other´s shoulder, reluctant at first, but then conciliatory and certain. 

Roger let himself be pulled against John‘s side and shivered at the contact of his chilled skin with John‘s warmth. John huffed, rubbed Roger‘s shoulder a little and blissfully looked at Brian. Brian felt his inside warm up at the sight. All in all it seemed like breaking the ice of an era consisting of cold stares and daring tantrums.  
“I still need an explanation for the mess you made with the sheets on my bathroom floor,“ John teased, and earned a gentle shove.  
“Made up for your lack of chaotic genius,“ Roger bit back and Brian had to chuckle at the defending tone of his voice. 

The atmosphere, bustling with furtively sworn trust and goodwill got interrupted once again, this time by no other than Freddie.  
“I heard my bitches are suffering on the top of the world?,” he announced and blew the smoke of his cigarette towards the stars.  
“From whom?“ Brian grinned. It was like someone had sent them the sun.  
“Well, a busty birdie named Irene told me that the band is probably having a perverted midnight threesome on the roof, and how could I miss something like that?“

Brian laughed, John made a face and Roger said "ew", but the whole threesome thing was forgotten the moment Freddie spotted Roger.  
“Oh holy shit, what in the world happened to you? Did some girl‘s angry husband beat your ass?“

He stopped directly in front of Roger, who scowled and looked close to bursting into tears.  
“Not exactly, umm. We had a little conversation about our recent problems and... worries. Yeah, I‘d say so,“ Brian tried to explain, but Freddie only looked more confused and put Brian in an uncomfortable, clueless spot with his piercing gaze. 

He altered between looking at John, Roger and Brian, then stomped out his cigarette and touched Roger‘s chin with uncommon carefulness.  
“Open up, I think you caught a cold. Oh fuck no, Rog. I need your golden throat, but only for one thing and one thing only,“ he mumbled and maybe it was because Roger had the resistance of an actual leave in a tornado when it came to Freddie, or he really hoped for an expertise on his health, but he opened his mouth docilely, looking into the sky, while Freddie pretended to be able to see anything in the pitch darkness behind Roger‘s faintly recognizable teeth.  
“Uuuh, shit, something is waving at me... What the fuck did you smoke?,“ Freddie stressed, closing his fingers around Roger‘s neck, shaking and squeezing a little, but it looked more morbidly than it actually was, because Roger closed his mouth and giggled, trying to push Freddie away.  
“Right now you‘re making it really hard to not like you.“

John made a fake-panicked, not at all surprised face towards Brian, who glared at Roger warningly. He didn‘t even notice John gave him an explicit nudge before letting go of his shoulder.  
“Excuse me?“

Freddie wasn‘t used to getting called out at night while all of his being controlled his environment, with adrenaline and endorphins controlling his body. 

Roger already looked like giving up. Brian felt remorseful about letting another discussion enflame in front of him, but he also understood that some things didn‘t wait for the next moment. Besides, they were all here, all finally had the courage to face their problems, and Brian had a scribbled piece of paper with new text waiting in his hotel room, hidden inside his luggage, because he hadn‘t found the courage to show it to Freddie or John.

When did they become this pile of misplaced pieces that knew everything about one another without knowing how to use that benefit, Jesus Christ?  
“You wanted me to fucking vanish this morning and now you care about my wellbeing. You were feeling awful two days ago, but turned down my offers to get you some coffee or medicine. Why should I value your concern then?“

The moments Freddie looked this offended and stunned were few. John had to focus on the ground to escape the tension. Brian kind of regretted not interfering sooner, but stayed quiet to keep track of any little sign that could indicate a seldom but certainly possible escalation.  
“Oh please don‘t look at me like I can‘t be in the right,“ Roger croaked, looking at all of them very weary and lost. He seemed weirdly happy despite all.

Freddie‘s breath shot out through his nose and mouth, visible in the form of little anger filled clouds and he had subconsciously been straightening up, but then his inner wall of stolid self-defence crashed, and he looked defeated, letting his gaze drop and his tongue wet his lips nervously before trying to come up with a reasonable argument.  
“You can call me every name in the catalogue, you can punch me in the face, you can wreck all the records we did so far, but don‘t tell me you think I don‘t care about you.“

That made Roger stop his frowning.  
“If you think I love you any less than I love doing music, or less than my family, then- shit, this roof is the last place on earth that will see me alive. Goodbye angels, it was nice knowing you, these fuckers don‘t know me at all,“ Freddie ranted, made a symbolic gesture to indicate his disappearance, and let Brian feel uneasy about the truthful hurt and sorrow in his expressive eyes. 

John hummed “oh my gosh,“ and made sure to put his own two feet onto the ground stable and secured for the same reason Brian didn´t look away from his manic friend for one second.

Roger fought a grin. They had to present a bizarre sight to outsiders.  
“Fuck. Fred. Why is it so easy to figure out if you‘re telling the truth...“

Roger let it sound like a statement instead of a question.  
“Because I am fucking telling the truth!“

And suddenly Brian wondered how he‘d ever questioned them all together on the same stage.  
“It‘s just that- That everyone is getting on my nerves all of the time, wanting to influence and to control, telling me things regarding Freddie Mercury even I didn‘t know!“

He fell into his habitual posture of the past. Head not held high for once.  
“And the only thing that keeps me from treating you all like I usually would, is my fear of experiencing the same utter resilience and arrogance I get to feel when I talk to anyone these days. This world makes it hard for me to expect anything else than rejection, even when it comes to you guys.“

Brian understood. He had been understanding for a while now, he just never thought that Freddie would open up to them about this destroying mindset of his.

Roger had opened his mouth in bitter comprehension, and John placatingly held his hands out in front of his body, obviously not knowing what to do. As if their lost closeness had to be awakened in the shyest, most cautious way possible. 

Brian decided to take action. “I‘m very- no, ridiculously glad you told us how you feel. Don‘t keep it all in, no matter what it is.“

He took two steps forward and placed a freezing, almost numb hand onto Freddie‘s right shoulder.  
“We‘re here to backfire, but above all we´re here to take care of you. I think I speak for all of us when I say that you‘re the reason we‘re here in the first place. I never experienced a kindness like yours. We‘d be the worst people on this planet if we stayed around you to aggravate your life.”

He subtly smiled to make sure he seemed as honest and sincere as he felt. Freddie even shrunk a little more into himself, but this time out of overwhelming affection.  
“Hm.“

It wasn‘t a lot, but Roger and Brian looked at each other, because they knew Freddie capitulated, gave up his demeanor of carefully trained defiance and distance. 

Then he started so smile too, his features making any further hesitancy pointless.  
“Why are you all so unbelievably gay, huh? Am I no good company or… or do you all happen to be the weirdest breed of rock stars who ever sat foot on this earth, or- I don‘t know. Something is wrong with you in the best way possible, and I‘m more than here for it,“ he declared and shook his head, still avoiding eye contact with anyone, working hard to make his grin smaller, and failing beautifully. Brian had long forgotten about the coldness.  
“Oh, come on. Don‘t act like you don‘t know how our company to one another keeps us grounded and stable and-“

John started to explain - eyes magnificently crescent shaped, cheeks showing dimples Brian didn‘t even know he had - but got interrupted by a suddenly very lively and brisk Freddie, who shouted “shut up, shut up, shut up!“, lunged at John and flung him into his arms, feet not touching the ground anymore. 

John laughed so loud anyone in the range of a few miles had to hear it, but who cared. They‘d leave, they‘d talk, they‘d play a thousand matches of Scrabble and Monopoly, they’d read out the lyrics they came up with while being on the road and laugh about them and then enthusiastically tell each other "brilliant, brilliant"! It was one of those nights. 

John squirmed in Freddie‘s arms, grin still painfully wide, and together they spun a few rounds, barely visible in the darkness, but still easily detectable, thanks to the noise they made.  
“Who is feeding you, you‘re barely meat and all bones and hair! Also, Darling! Tell me how the fuck can you have an ass like this while being the stick you are? My god, what a wonderful, mystical creature you are, John Richard Deacon!,“ Freddie howled and John indicated through mild discomfort and squeaking “stop it, stop!” that Freddie was grabbing and feeling up his bum. 

Then he finally was released, his feet landing on the ground with a definite ’tap’ and Freddie ran up to Brian and Roger, newly found childishness adorning his face.  
“I‘d do the same with you two, but I think you‘d be better off doing it with each other and I‘m pretty sure Roger, dear, you gained fifteen pounds while touring. Let‘s go. Let‘s leave. This shithole of a bar is home to greasy motherfuckers who shove coke up their ass, smuggling it across the states to make a living.“

He got worryingly serious towards the end, circling his right hand through the air so fast it was hard to follow the movement while his left hand lit up a cigarette, creating a stunning, golden glow around his mouth and cheekbones, eyes reflecting it so naturally Brian asked himself how Freddie was at home on this earth instead of space. 

Roger commented the remark about his weight with a snarled “bastard“, but Brian had a feeling it happened more out of habit than bad intentions.

Freddie turned around, grabbed John, who still looked dazed and woozy, by the wrist and started to stride off towards the stairs leading down to the ground.  
“If you have to puke, tell me, you understand?“ he tried to get through to John, side-eying him knowingly while leading him to reach the stairway without stumbling over his own two feet.  
“We do not need another puke stain in the limo, comprendes?“  
“Oh my god, this does indeed not feel good, I-“  
“How did you turn into such a drunk bitch over the course of the few moments I was gone, holy shit-“

Their silhouettes and voices disappeared like they had been nothing more than a swearing mirage, and Brian tried not to feel too strongly about Freddie‘s pants that had been put on backwards. He sighed, deeply and cleaning, and looked at Roger.  
“Wanna fling me around?“ the younger asked nonchalantly, which Brian obviously hadn´t been expecting.  
“Uhm... Sure, I- If you want to, we-“

Roger‘s melodious laugh pulled him out of his stuttering. He hopped down from the railing.  
“I‘m joking. I‘d very certainly break you in half, lanky ass model.“

He winked, or rather tried to, and that let him look absolutely endearing.  
“Let‘s go. No one deserves to be harassed by two children trapped inside grown men‘s bodies.“

Brian had the urge to enjoy the stars above for a little longer, but he also knew Roger was right.  
“Thank you. For suggesting to get some fresh air.“ 

Leaving the roof felt like leaving a battlefield; successfully victorious and liberating.

 

 

 

After arguing about the heating in the car and how warm it should or should not be, Freddie had finally agreed with Brian.  
“It won‘t be healthy for your mucous membranes if we keep it too hot in here. And your skin gets itchy, don‘t you remember?“  
“Yes, yes. I do remember, smartass. What would I do without you?“  
“Die in a ditch.“  
“Probably.“

Freddie was sitting in the passenger‘s seat. He told their driver the address of their hotel and looked at John, Roger and Brian, who were all squeezed together in the back. Sometimes it was hard for Brian to accept the fact that he could do the most to prevent anything bad happening to Freddie and still not be able to keep him away from the majority of problems.  
He recalled John‘s words from one night in London. They had been happy and at home and inaccessible to any worries; at least Brian had thought so until he had to wait in front of the bathroom door for nearly three hours to make sure Freddie was going to come out eventually, without his stomach needing to get cleaned from all kinds of contents of the medical boxes in the cupboard above the sink.  
“Zopiclone.”  
“Did you say Zopiclone? No, Fred, not one pill. Promise, okay? Promise? Someone asked for you downstairs, it would be nice to have them meet you as sober as you can be. I really don‘t want to break that door, it looks quite nice. Would be a shame.“  
“No breaking! No meeting!“

The blurred and barely recognizable words had caused Brian‘s chest to clench in pain.  
Something had fallen down on Freddie‘s side, loud clattering on tiles causing even more unintelligible swearing.  
“Would you like me to get-“  
“Jus‘ fuckin‘ stay there.“  
“Alright. Alright, I‘m right here. I‘m not going anywhere.“

When he had told John about it, he´d said: “In the end we‘re guides, not protectors. We can‘t protect someone like Freddie. That‘s a task even god gave up long ago.“

As cruel as that sounded, it was true.

And now he sat in this vehicle, with Freddie looking good, radiant, truly happy for the first time in months, but it hit Brian undeniably hard that this was still the same person who acted so very different any given day.  
“I‘m trying to get some sleep. Anyone else? Don‘t take this as an exit for our continuing of the party at the hotel though!“ Freddie exclaimed, moving around in his seat until he found a position comfortable enough to fall asleep.

It turned out John was following Freddie‘s suggestion with amusing ease, head rolled back and mouth open not long after. 

Roger nibbled around on his fingernails for a while and observed the sleeping figures. Then he whispered to Brian, who sat in the middle.  
“Are they really asleep?“  
“Yes, I think so. What‘s up? Still need to get something off your chest?“

Roger fixated him thoughtfully. Brian could see how he was chewing around on the insides of his cheeks.  
“Besides... you didn‘t tell me what bothers you about me. Spit it out, I‘ll be fine,“ Brian encouraged him, smiling so widely his vision got indistinct.  
“Easy, because there is nothing. Truly, you-“

Roger stopped as if he just realized what he‘d said, but he didn‘t look regretful at all. Brian felt his cheeks getting hot.  
“You could stop being so unproblematic and making me feel like goddamn Satan for snapping regularly. No, really. I‘m sorry.“  
“For what? I like it when you snap. I like it when you get things going with impatience,” Brian confessed.  
“Well. Prepare for my bitching all year round then,“ Roger giggled and Brian did not want to ever let go of this moment.  
“Come at me. Go off. I‘m used to it. Been through everything,“ he whispered back energetically.  
“Yeah. Yeah, I‘m kind of sorry that you really have been through everything,“ Roger said with a dismaying amount of rawness to it. 

Brian wasn’t prepared for the mop of blond strands tickling his jaw when Roger leaned his head against his shoulder. 

He yawned, as if nothing irregular happened. Brian guessed that indeed nothing irregular happened. He was just overwhelmed by this whole night.  
“We‘re going to take these drunk amateurs out like there‘s no tomorrow. At Scrabble and at Monopoly,“ Roger triumphantly declared. 

Brian softly smiled, because in no way did it seem like anyone in this car would be able to see anything else besides their mattresses. 

 

 

He got in fact proven wrong.  
“Did I ever tell you what a fucking asshole you are, fucking fuck-“  
“Shhhh, there are people asleep!“ John tried to intervene without even realizing Freddie and him had lost the third time in a row.  
“What? Who‘s asleep at-“ Freddie glanced at the little clock next to the cupboard.  
“At 3 am on a Sunday? Who is even ever asleep when there‘s so much to do, so much to see-“  
"Can we stop this? I‘m really fucking tired and my feet are numb.“  
John demonstratively wiggled his toes that had been cramped underneath his body the whole time.  
“You always come up with the best ideas, Deaky-Dear!“

Roger jumped onto his feet. “Not the middle!“

Freddie spread his body out on the floor and stared at the ceiling, looking very content.  
“Not the middle for you. Not the left side and not the right side either! Dogs deserve to sleep on the floor.“

Roger‘s eye roll was impressive. “Fuck you, I-“

John pushed him aside, making his way towards Freddie‘s bedroom in the obnoxious suite. 

Brian wondered how something so familiar could feel this strange and new. “I know I‘m not going to be sleeping next to Deaky,“ he announced and stretched out his legs to let the bones in his ankles pop. 

Freddie stared at him like he was seeing Brian for the first time in years. He was massaging his eyebrows, eyelids obviously struggling to stay open. “Look at you. Spare some leg.“

Ultimately he stood up, reaching out a hand for Brian to take.  
“I know for a fact that you‘re going to be sleeping next to an adventurous sculpture, which happens to be placed at the right side of the bed, for whatever reason.“

And Brian knew that Freddie would end up being pressed up against a completely passed out John, who preferred the left side of the bed, leaving Roger a little grumpy about the fact that he was caged in between two bodies that occasionally and spontaneously decided to snore. Brian also knew that at the end of the day, Roger liked it. 

It had always been that way.

**Author's Note:**

> I´m sad. Always am. 
> 
>  
> 
> (props to you if you figured out their cuddling constellation uwu)


End file.
